


Far Away

by thishasnomeaning



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishasnomeaning/pseuds/thishasnomeaning
Summary: Sometimes, Credence imagined himself as a prince from a tale, locked in a castle by an evil fairy. He did not need to stretch his imagination much. Locked in he was. And the man who kept him, he could sport the looks of a fairy – with his mane of golden curls and his strangely boyish face (the face of a boy who refused to grow old while he had never been young; not like Credence who refused to be young while he would never live to grow old).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do take "chose not to use archive warnings" seriously. (Someone mentioned in the comments which one, so if you need to know, click the comments first) I don't know if Credence would go with Grindelwald in canon. In this fic he does. Also, Grindelwald doesn't look anything like Johnny Depp in my mind.

The view from the castle was breathtaking: Credence could see mountain peaks and valleys and evergreen woods. Trees, heavily laden with snow, this time of the year. A landscape as vast as the world itself, and surely as old, stretching into eternity.

Sometimes, Credence imagined himself as a prince from a tale, locked in a castle by an evil fairy. He did not need to stretch his imagination much. Locked in he was. And the man who kept him, he could sport the looks of a fairy – with his mane of golden curls and his strangely boyish face (the face of a boy who refused to grow old while he had never been young; not like Credence who refused to be young while he would never live to grow old).

Credence had never really thought about seeing Europe. Or much of the world, really, apart from New York. Apart from his home which wasn’t his home. He had never known what it would be like. To be away. Away from his mother who wasn’t his mother in a way that hurt and who was his mother in a way that hurt more. Away from his sisters who were his sisters.

Now, Credence never really thought about the past. He was a prince in a castle filled to the brim with magic and ideas about a so-called perfect world. The perfect world was familiar to Credence. However, most of his life he had believed that would be a world without magic.

Now, the perfect world of Credence’s childhood – the perfect world of hidden force – did not matter any longer. Now, Grindelwald was shaping the world by his visions, resistance either being melted away by his charm or killed at his order.

And Credence was the one who did most of the killing.

He was good at that. He had learned to suppress himself until he was nothing but rage. They could not hurt him when he went wild. He was a being without a body. Emotion without a soul. He was what Grindelwald needed.

Credence could not stand being a person. Because, when he was a person, he felt bad about himself, about his rage, about his anger, about being a murderer. He had been living in this castle for more than a year and almost every day he had killed. In his dreams, everyone he had ever killed looked like his sisters.

For Credence, being a person was feeling disgust and regret. For Grindelwald, being a person, was feeling nothing but glory.

This was Credence’s fairytale: Regret and a view of the mountains, a blond fairy with exquisite taste and cruel demands, and a castle.

Credence could stroll through most of the castle and he did so. The things he found were fascinating. Brightly coloured potions in bottles made of chrystal, cages full of strange beasts, books with moving pictures. Sometimes, Grindelwald gave him a lesson and Credence could pretend he was here to learn the art of doing magic.

One day, Credence found a picture of someone. A boy, about as old as Credence was now, with long hair and glasses, looking happy.

That picture gave Credence a twinge, somewhere. Maybe in his heart. Grindelwald would keep Credence around, sure. But he would never keep a picture of Credence. Of this boy, for whatever reason, he did keep a picture. And, as Credence later discovered, letters (signed Albus) and a curl of that long hair (which was auburn).

The next thing Credence learned about magic was how to make polyjuice potion.

Grindelwald knocked at the door to Credence’s bedroom. “Credence, I need you.”

But Credence was not going to kill people who looked like his sister, not today. Today, Credence had long, auburn hair and the body of a boy with an unblemished future and a world to explore.

“You will not use me like that. Not if I look like him.”

And then, for a second, Grindelwald looked as if he was overcome by emotion.

This night, Grindelwald did not ask Credence to kill anyone. This night, Grindelwald asked Credence to kiss him. Credence, in turn, asked Grindelwald to win him over. And Grindelwald did.

Credence had never been kissed by anyone and he had never been invited into anyone’s bed. The way Grindelwald treated him in bed felt like the way he should be treated in bed. Gentle. Like the way he wanted to be treated, not only in bed.

Feeling safe was insanity. Credence had seen this man murder without a hint of emotion. He had endured this man using him as a weapon again and again. And yet, Credence could not help feeling safe. Grindelwald’s body was warm beside his own. Grindelwald’s kisses had felt rough and pure at the same time. The way he had touched Credence, the way he had touched the boy with auburn hair had been either honest or close to.

Grindelwald always seemed to glow from within. Credence knew whatever that glow was – it was something evil. Insanity. Megalomania. Narcissism. Insatiability. Credence knew. But tonight – tonight he felt that glow and he felt love.

“Sleep.” An order, sealed by the last kiss of the night. Credence obeyed.

He never woke up again.


End file.
